Jane Davey’s Locket by Eve Langlais Page 0,9

Didn’t twitch one hip in response to the gyrating beat. Ignored the interested stares that undressed her and raised the hairs on my body.

As if I cared who ogled Glinda. I should warn them to stay away from the prickly witch. Everyone knew they were bad news, and yet, I still followed. She seemed to have a destination in mind. She marched right into a corner where a drunken pirate, who was channeling his inner Johnny Depp, sat slumped, waving around a pitcher of ale while singing off-key.

“Oye, she had a nice pair of titties, a nice pair of titties indeed. And when I put my face between them,”—the word rose in pitch—“I suffocated nice as you pleeeeeeasee.” The ditty ended with a sip.

The witch stopped in front of the drunken pirate and held out an imperious hand. “Give it back.”

I had to strain to hear.

The pirate leered, a gold tooth gleaming. “I’ll give you wherever you like, me beauty.”

“Must you be so disgusting?”

“You say that now, yet once you get a ride on my peg leg, you’ll be begging for more.” The pirate gyrated on the floor, no doubt thinking he was sexy. He failed.

It made me ashamed for men everywhere.

“Doubtful.” The witch wasn’t seduced either. She waggled her fingers and turned the jug of ale into a celery stick, which caused the pirate to stand and bluster as he waved it in her face and yelled at her.

“Bloody hell, woman. Give me back my grog.”

“Only once you hand it over.”

The pirate thrust his hips. “You want it, grab it.”

She crossed her arms and remained unimpressed. “Don’t test me, pirate.”

“The name is Gaston. You’ve probably heard of me. Scourge of the seas. Marauder extraordinaire.”

“No, you’re not.” Glinda snapped her fingers. Suddenly, the pirate was clean-shaven, hair close-cut, and wearing a suit.

“What did you do?” the pirate screeched, slapping at his body, his expression twisted in horror.

“You don’t deserve the title the scourge of the seas, yuppy.” Uttered with pure disdain.

“You bitch!” The pirate-turned-businessman lunged for the witch, and that’s when my inner kitty nudged and rumbled, Can we play?

Hell yeah, we can.

4

Jane: I will not marry my father.

Irritation threatened to erupt in me. The damned buccaneer wouldn’t hand over my locket. And yet, I knew he had it. I could feel the magic tingling in me. Drawing me to this…this…disgusting excuse of a man.

Don’t get me wrong. I liked pirates. My dad was an excellent swashbuckler. And I’m sure the one ranting at me to give him back his ale and clothes was the terror of some sea or other.

However, it was the fact that Gaston reminded me of my dad that made the idea of being with him revolting. I’d spent many hours with a therapist discovering that I loved my father and would have to be careful that I didn’t try and find a replacement for him.

Now to convince the locket. I caught a glimpse of it glinting against the pirate’s chest under the linen of his shirt. Before I could grab for it, the pirate-turned-yuppy lunged.

Totally prepared to handle it, I suddenly didn’t have to. A giant kitty pounced between us and growled. A lion, as a matter of fact, with a dark mane and a powerful body.

Want to bet it was the same one I’d recently bumped into?

More surprising? The fact that he snarled at the pirate instead of me. What happened to bros before hos?

The pirate took offense and swung a fist.

Against a lion. Just went to show his level of intoxication.

Oz batted at it, and the pirate screamed before taking off running—with my locket. The lion took chase, which meant I had to follow.

“Stupid, meddling pussycat.” Why had he jumped in? Chivalry, especially after what had happened between us, didn’t seem likely.

Perhaps Oz already had a hate-on for the pirate. Lots of people didn’t like them, and not just because of the whole marauding aspect. Women found them sexy, which led to more than a few husbands and boyfriends getting jealous.

I should note, the jealousy thing went two ways. My mom had killed her fair share of wenches who dared to bat their eyes at her man. Anyone who ever wondered where I got my attitude from had obviously never met my blood-thirsty parents.

The chase took us from the crowded room, where that woman dancing on the table had just taken a swan dive onto a man who sprouted wings. A beautiful male who glowed and almost managed to distract me with his